"UPON THE MOUNTAIN'S DISTANT HEAD." UPON the mountain's distant head, With trackless snows for ever white, But far below those icy rocks, The vales, in summer bloom arrayed, 'Tis thus, from warm and kindly hearts, But lingers with the cold and stern. THE EVENING WIND. SPIRIT that breathest through my lattice, thou Riding all day the wild blue waves till now, And swelling the white sail. I welcome thee Nor I alone-a thousand bosoms round Go forth into the gathering shade; go forth, Go, rock the little wood-bird in his nest, Curl the still waters, bright with stars, and rouse The wide old wood from his majestic rest, Summoning from the innumerable boughs The strange, deep harmonies that haunt his breast: The shutting flower, and darkling waters pass, The faint old man shall lean his silver head To feel thee; thou shalt kiss the child asleep, And dry the moistened curls that overspread His temples, while his breathing grows more deep: And they who stand about the sick man's bed, Shall joy to listen to thy distant sweep, And softly part his curtains to allow Thy visit, grateful to his burning brow. Go-but the circle of eternal change, Which is the life of nature, shall restore, Thee to thy birthplace of the deep once more; Shall tell the home-sick mariner of the shore; "WHEN THE FIRMAMENT QUIVERS WITH DAYLIGHT'S YOUNG BEAM." WHEN the firmament quivers with daylight's young beam, And the glow of the sky blazes back from the stream, Oh! 'tis sad, in that moment of glory and song, Till the circle of ether, deep, ruddy, and vast, Scarce glimmers with one of the train that were there; And their leader the day-star, the brightest and last, Twinkles faintly and fades in that desert of air. Thus, Oblivion, from midst of whose shadow we came, |